


What team?

by Emotionalsorbet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is confused, Fake Proposals, M/M, more fluff than anything else, the season 5 we all deserved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 13:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11670006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emotionalsorbet/pseuds/Emotionalsorbet
Summary: All clichés aside, Cas isn't quite sure what they are.





	What team?

It's not on Cas's mind at first. No, really.

They're on a hunt, investigating as officers, only Dean grabbed Sam's badge instead of his own--which was _incredibly_ stupid, but anyway--and basically screwed them over from the inside out. He grabs Cas's hand the moment the woman at the front desk points it out, bolts the second she picks up the phone to call the _real_ police.

Dean tugs and tugs and tugs and _"C'mon, Cas!"_ , in that gravelly voice that drives Cas insane. They're barely twenty feet away from the place when Dean stops harshly and pulls Cas out from his back and in front of him. His hands go to the fold of Cas's trench coat, tugging down on a slant to get it off in one go. Cas doesn't have time to blink before Dean rips off his blazer and tie as well.

It's understandable, though, because as Dean shrugs off his own blazer, Cas hears it--footsteps and sirens and shouts and phones and--

Dean's chucking their clothes behind the dumpster.

Somehow, Cas's shirt gets unbuttoned and he's barely catching sight of security rounding the corner they're behind when Dean lunges forward, gets two hands on Cas's face and presses their lips together, moving fast and placing a thigh between Cas's legs. Cas blinks.

"C'mon," Dean encourages, nudging Cas in the thigh, "hands on my waist. Eyes closed."

Cas doesn't understand quite yet, but he obliges, wraps his arms around Dean's waist and lets Dean do the work.

After all, this was _his_ idea.

It's almost nice, whatever this is, and Cas is almost losing himself to it--for a moment--eyes closed and jaw falling slack, lips parting as Dean moves to his neck.

Cas _really_ doesn't understand, but he's not about to question it. He lets Dean do as he pleases, simply lets it happen as the shouts get closer, stop, and then fade out into the distance.

Dean's touch goes with them. Cas's eyes flutter open.

He's laughing as he retrieves their clothes, Dean, making Cas's head spin wildly.

"Pda always gets them," he says proudly, putting one arm around Cas's shoulders. They walk slowly, almost drunkenly, the laughter dripping out of Dean's mouth like gold. Cas wants to smile, but he's also confused as all hell.

-

Security's scouring somewhere else when they reach the impala, so Dean isn't worried about rushing out. He takes the time to rebutton Cas's shirt, to fix his collar and pat him on the back.

"We make a good team," he says.

Cas forces a smile. "Yeah."

-

It's after the hunt that Dean gets back over to him.

Sam's settling things with the family, and Dean's covered in blood and mud and sweat, and his hands are gross, but he's smiling. Stomping over in his boots and pulling Cas in for a quick kiss, mixing their filth. "We make a good team," he says again.

It's more gross than endearing. Cas'll take it.

  
-

The next time Dean does it, they're checking into a motel.

Sam's doing the talking, hands moving and mouth moving, Dean and Cas behind him. Cas isn't paying much attention to the conversation being had, but Dean is, apparently, because his arm slinks around Cas's waist, and his hand comes to hold his hip. There's no time to question it, no time to send Dean a lost look.

Dean reels him in faster than he can think, uses the grip as an advantage and _pullspullspulls_. He dips Cas when he's close enough, uses his free hand to hold Cas's and presses their foreheads together.

Cas's eyes widen--this is Dean. This is Dean, who's right here: his eyes and face and lips and freckles. Dean, who's whispering a _giggle, Cas_ , through a smile.

Cas does, but it sounds more forced than anything else, and he's afraid he's screwed it up. Dean chases that thought away quickly, presses his lips against Cas's for a second and a second only.

"I--yeah, they're with me." Sam's voice drifts through, and Cas realizes where they are. His face heats as Dean lets him stand fully.

"Sorry," Dean laughs, and it's endearing. He doesn't let go of Cas's hand. "Honeymoon. Wanted to head down to Florida, and my great ol' best man here thought we could make it all the way through."

"Oh," the manager's staring, too. "Congratulations." Dean smiles a _thank you_ , squeezes Cas's hand. "Where are you guys from?"

"Jersey," Dean lies, and it's easy, too fucking easy and Cas is so, so lost. Sam looks just as baffled. "An island was our first choice, but funds are running low this year..."

Another squeeze. Sam's jaw drops.

"Oh, _oh_. Let me--let me see what I can do."

He disappears for a moment, just long enough for Dean to snicker victoriously and nudge his brother in the shoulder. "Close your mouth, Sammy. You'll catch flies like that."

His hand is still locked with Cas's when the guy comes back with two room keys.

-

Sam doesn't talk again until they're in the room.

It's tense for a minute, and Cas is watching him, has been since it happened. He makes a face, finger pointing accusingly, "One of you want to tell me what _that_ was?"

Dean shrugs, and Cas is almost disappointed. _Almost_. There's a smile on Dean's face. He looks proud.  "Saw it in some crap movie. That marriage garbage gets you free _everything_."

Cas swallows, looks away.

-

"So what are your plans for tonight?" Dean asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. It's later now, and Sam's passed out face down on his own bed.

Cas squints at the wallpaper. "I'll probably just, I'll probably wait somewhere. Like I always do."

Dean glances at the floor. "You could stay here?"

That changes things. Cas is frowning, his words are slow, cautious, "Last time I watched you sleep you said you were gonna kick--"

"No," Dean cuts him off, waving his hands. "Not like _here_ , like..."

He's touching the spot on the duvet next to him, fingers curling and uncurling and Cas doesn't get it. He tilts his head and tries, and then-- _oh_.

Oh.

"Dean, I don't--I don't sleep. You know that."

Dean's expression is blank. "You could try?"

The words are endearing, and Cas is really, really fucking lost. "I--um," it's intelligent, the way he's speaking. Dean just keeps staring, blinking up at him until he flouders like a fish, until his mouth opens and closes and opens and closes.

"Okay," he decides, finally. _Okay_.

-

Once they've slept together, it's always on his mind.

Cas doesn't sleep, so for four hours, he'd just lied there: on top of the covers, fully dressed, hands folded over his stomach. He'd attempted to close his eyes for a while, but that failed miserably--Dean isn't exactly the most restful sleeper. He tossed and turned for a solid fourth of the time, and then passed out on his stomach with one arm over Cas's chest.

It wasn't weird in the morning either, which only made it _weirder_. Cas hates this.

Currently, they're in a restaurant, just the two of them, sitting _alone_. Dean's talking and laughing and trying to get Cas to talk _more_. Cas doesn't get it. He can't.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and Dean doesn't look up right away. "You're acting strangely."

Dean looks up then, almost as lost as Castiel's been feeling for the past week. "I'm fine, Cas."

Cas doesn't buy it, but he doesn't speak on it. Instead, he watches Dean eat his fries and then reach over for Cas's. He lets Dean have them, as per usual.

Dean doesn't eat them, though.

He gets up, and Cas is blinking up at him now, eyes wide and lost and "Dean, what are you...?"

But then Dean's bending, one knee dipping to touch the ground and Cas's face is the color of the ketchup. He hides behind his hands, peeks out to see Dean's fingers opening a box.

"Castiel," he starts, and Cas doesn't want to hear another word. He doesn't want to think or hear or breathe, because he can't, physically cannot. Dean's on one knee. In a restaurant. In front of _him_.

Granted, it's not the best place; however, it's not the worst. They're semi-dressed, still in their getup from the last investigation. It looks real, so, so real and Cas isn't sure if it is at this point.

Dean's finishing and people are clapping and then there's a smile and Cas is saying _yesyesyes_. He barely gets to stand before he's colliding with Dean, arms around Dean's neck and one strong arm around his back. Cas doesn't know how he does it, but it happens. People cheer and clap and there's free dessert, apparently. No charge. On the house, whatever that means.

Dean kisses him on the way out, and it's longer, deeper and sweeter than the last few. He tastes like apples, Cas thinks, right after wondering if he actually knows what apples taste like.

 _Great_ team.

It's an upgrade. Dean's pleased, extremely happy, because when he says it, he kisses Cas again, presses him up against the hood of the impala and mumbles something about a groom-to-be. Cas doesn't know. He's letting out an embarrassing noise that kills the mood seconds into it. Dean loves it, peppers the last of the kiss on Cas's nose.

Cas can't do this.

There's a ring on his finger.

-

The following afternoon, they're in another cheap-ass motel on a lore Sam found halfway across the country. It's his turn to go on a food run, so Dean and Cas have the place to themselves.

Dean's at the table when Cas's head spins far too fast to be bearable.

"You're confusing," Cas confesses, staring at his hands. "I don't--it doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't?" Dean asks, and he's turned his attention rate up, moving to drop the file he'd been scanning to state directly at Cas. Cas hates when he does that, but he also loves it, because it's Dean, for heaven's sake. He frowns, crosses his eyebrows, like he cares. That drives Cas wild. "The pda thing?"

"Sometimes you do it when no one's around," he fills in, still not looking up. "When you're not trying to get bargains."

He misses Dean walking over, misses that whole part where Dean gets in front of him and quirks an eyebrow. Misses Dean say, "I thought you were cool with it."

Cas shakes his head a little, "Maybe I don't understand. I don't think--I don't think I do? I mean, what...what is it?"

Dean's clearly flipped positions. He's just as lost as Cas, looking more perplexed than perplexity itself. "What you want it to be?"

Dean's so close Cas can taste his cologne. He smiles, bites his lip, looks down, finds Dean's lips, then glances back up, meets his gaze.

"I want you to kiss me."

Dean does, but it's hesitant, a second of a pause and hands on Cas's jaw, two fingers under Cas's chin to tilt his head upward. He gets real close first, breath on Cas's lips as they make eye contact, as Cas's eyes flutter open, and then shut. Dean presses their lips together, just for a moment, just long enough to hear Cas make a soft sound that Dean wants to drown in, just enough to get them moving a bit, to get Cas's arms around his neck and his own hands on Cas's waist.

It doesn't last long.

Sam opens the front door before they can get anywhere fun, and they shoot apart, Dean clearing his throat, standing, and Cas turning to face the opposite way. He touches his lips for a moment, fingertips lightly brushing a smile that comes about.

 _Great team_ , he confirms. _They make a great team._


End file.
